The Tempest named Tempest
by Sarcastic Clapping
Summary: Tempest Whitt is having one of the greatest days of her life. After 7 horrid years filled with heavy soap-opera-like drama, for the first time in years she's finally being optimistic after receiving her Hogwarts Acceptance letter! But when she walks into the heavy doors of Hogwarts, she's got no idea what's in store for her this year. Romance comes in later... Remus/OC


**Hello, oddities of the universe which we are forced to nickname people! I was trying to get on here for days- for some reason, it wouldn't load and my mother had to go to Best Buy to fix it and all that jazz. But, here's the first chapter, and for a second I want you to read this tiny little author's note good and hard. My OC is based after me, and I pride myself into knowing some of the horrible things she's going to go through. So I dedicate this first chapter to myself, and I'm going to call it "Foreshadowing" in honor of the future that is spiraling towards our young heroine as we speak. **

"Merlin's ugly green sweatshirt- it's here! It's finally here!"

Were the first words to come out of my mouth as soon as the owl fluttered into the open window and dropped the letter into my unsuspecting palms. For the past year, I've been counting the days until I turned eleven, and it wasn't for the normal reason people would suspect. No, I had much more exciting urges in my life- for one, the thrill of being accepted into Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, taught by the utterly eccentric Albus Dumbledore.

Of course, there was just _one _teensy flaw in my otherwise brilliant life.

My stepsister (Or as I liked to call her, Nuisance in the Form of the Devil), went ballistic as soon as she saw the note. She was a Muggle; a non-magic girl that was an extreme pain in the place that will not be named. My stepfather wasn't too thrilled, either, when my mother explained to him all about the Wizarding world. Actually, _not thrilled _is the understatement of the century.

Before I actually delve into the dramatic soap opera which is my life, let me tell you a few things about my family life- utter fiasco is the words I want to describe it as, but it's much more then _that. _

My father abandoned us when I was about four years old- for the first years in my life, I thought he was the devil in yellow dress robes and threw a huge tantrum whenever he came into my sight. He abused my mother severely, and we actually threw a tiny celebration when he was gone- it was probably the best night of my life. No evil man whore was going to scream at us for wasting Galleons. No perverted freak was going to assault my mother any longer. And for a while, it was perfect. We'd go to the Muggle bookstore down the street and would be swept away in the fascinating fairytale stories of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs; and the Little Match Girl.

It was my own personal favorite- the abused girl running off into the snow, barefooted and shivering with cold as she dropped down on her knees and tried to light a match. In the silvery glow, she sees several beautiful visions of a Christmas tree and a holiday feast. The girl looks upwards and sees a shooting star darting across the midnight sky in a brilliant flash of white, and then she remembers her dead grandmother saying that such a falling star means someone has died and is going to Heaven. As she lights the next match, she sees her grandmother, the only person to have treated her with love and kindness in the unfortunate world she had to call a home. She strikes one match after another to keep the vision of her grandmother alive for as long as she can. Her grandmother smiles at her and whisks her away to heaven when she dies out in the cold, and the neighbors find the little girl with the match in her hand, staring in wonder at the snowflakes still spilling onto the ground.

It hits close to home, that's all.

But back to the topic at hand. As I was saying, it might've been the best year of my life, if my mother hadn't met Richard and got married and made me endure his daughter's tormenting comments about my oddness and the fact that I'm a freak. But whenever I protested this to Mum, she just threw a warning glare at me and scolded her for a while, then went back to snogging with the love of her life, Richard.

The snarky comments gradually faded away, but Bianca- Richard's precious little angel from heaven- continued to throw death-glares in my direction and whisper insults under her breath at the dinner table, where I was forced to sit with the insufferable prat. Richard wasn't much better, either. He was nice for about the thirty seconds I met him. And then he started being a slight, well, _ass. _He boasted about his gorgeous daughter- throwing not-so-subtle comments about my utterly plain looks as well- and made such cheesy compliments on Mum's looks that I would've struck him with a vicious hex right then and there if I had my wand already and wouldn't have been killed by Mum's lecture.

So, even as I hoped things would turn out horribly for the pair, it only spiraled from there. They got married, and then we moved into Muggle London in their large, fancy flat. Personally, I would rather stay in the small, untidy little room we were forced to live in at The Three Broomsticks, since my father- along with abandoning us- stole our lifetime supply of Galleons and ran off. We never saw him again, which I was slightly thankful for, even though a part of me wanted to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him suffer with a thousand _"Crucios" _until he went mad with the pain.

We were lucky my mother was best friends with Madame Rosmerta- otherwise we would've been homeless and would've probably been dead by now. We owe her our life, like it or not, and I was extremely grateful for the comforting hugs and supportive talks she always gave us- my mother was in extremely high mental strain at the time, which is a kind way to say _Going off the Deep End. _

But now we've lost almost all contact with Rosmerta, and I'm ashamed to say I haven't owled her a letter in about four years, now. As well as the other friends Mum managed to make in the months that followed my father's abandoning. We were hopelessly pathetic- the Blood Traitors are married to Muggles, blah blah blah, so and so was on the Daily Prophet for years to come. I'm not even entirely sure if we're now the Hate topic in Diagon Alley, but the time we needed to go shopping for Hogwarts in September is a good example of how "scandalous" we are.

Pathetic, I know.

And before I drone on about our little shopping spree, I still need to inform you on how nervous I was, if you didn't already clue on it. It was mind-wracking, but I managed to keep a ring of optimism with me. If only I knew what would've happened. Then maybe I wouldn't be stuck in this utter fiasco, this horrid plight, this tormenting situation the Muggles call a "problem".

Understatement of the century, Muggles. Understatement of the century.

**So, even though you may not be accustomed to amazing writing when you see it, this is a gorgeous chapter in my opinion- gives you a chance to foresee, open your inner eye, and all that jazz, right? Well, in the next chapter, our courageous little heroine is going to meet the four badasses of the eons to come- that's right. The Mauraders!  
**

**Sarcastic Clapping, A.K.A. Queen Awesome of Epic Proportions, A.K.A. Lyricalyrics A.K.A. Potterhead Enthusiast, A.K.A. Proud RavenPuff, A.K.A. Mayor of Wackspurts and Head Chief of S.P.E.W., A.K.A. pure brilliance reincarnated into one divine form, A.K.A. President of the Sirius Black Fan Club, A.K.A. The girl with a thousand names but usually known as the way someone puts their hands together repeatedly in a snarky way **


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